


A Grave of his Own Making

by FelicityReid



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Anxiety, Autistic Keith (Voltron), Depression, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Imperfect Support System, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) Has ADHD, Lance (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Lance (Voltron) Has Depression, Lance (Voltron) Has Issues, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance-centric, Langst, M/M, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24259330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelicityReid/pseuds/FelicityReid
Summary: Lance has dug himself into a hole. After ignoring it for so long, he can't seem to find a way out.
Relationships: Keith & Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 139





	1. Chapter 1

His depression had come back without him noticing, and it was in full swing. He could still distract himself thanks to his ADHD, but distractions only helped the symptoms, not the disease. But it didn’t matter. He couldn’t concentrate even if he wanted to.

Not able to pay his full attention to what was in front of him, Lance was making mistake after mistake. It was clear after only a couple of missions that he wasn’t good at his job, wasn’t good at being a paladin. And not being a good paladin means people suffered because of his own simple, stupid failings.

It was easy to hide his mistakes from the others at first, but they had been piling up. Soon, everyone would see the damage he had caused. And Lance knew that as soon as failures come to light, those that he respects and calls friends would turn on him. How could they not?

So Lance stopped sparring with Keith. He hid from Coran when there was cleaning to be done. He refrained from checking up on Pidge. He no longer asked for advice from Shiro. He neglected to make sure Allura took a break. And he avoided the kitchen and Hunk at all costs. 

He withdrew to his room at first, and then other parts of the castle that weren’t in use. It helped Lance to be in an environment he wasn’t familiar with, made it easier to keep reality and his shortcomings at bay.

But a reckoning was coming. The only thing to do was to brace and wait. 

But nothing changed. No one confronted him. They would ask him in passing if he was doing okay. Lance would say, “I’m fine” and the socially-expected small talk would end there. In the meantime, he would keep making mistakes, causing damage, and bringing Voltron down with him.

Even still, the cracks were widening. Something had to change.

Lance could feel his anxiety starting to grow as he waited. In the brief interactions he had with his team, he could tell they knew. How could they not see how much damage he’d caused in Voltron’s name and not one person confront him about it?

Shiro asked Lance if he could help. “No, its okay.” It was his own problem, not Shiro’s to deal with.

Hunk cornered him into agreeing to lunch the next day. It would be nice, but ultimately meaningless.

He could even see Keith pitying him from across the room during briefings.

He appreciated the compassion. Really, he did. But it still didn’t change that Lance was a leech that was also somehow a paladin. If no one else would do something about him, he would.

Lance had made that promise to himself a week ago, but so far, he lacked the strength to do anything. He couldn’t even keep a promise to himself. God, the levels of his own patheticness astounded him sometimes. 

And so he continued to sludge through, day after day, just waiting for someone to kick him off the team to make room for someone better who wouldn’t hamper the success of Voltron.

After one particularly disastrous and unproductive mission, Lance found himself sitting on the ground and staring out at the stars on the observation deck. Pidge would be working on an upgrade for green; Coran tuning up the engines; Allura making last minute alterations to their heading. Hunk could either be in the kitchen or helping Pidge. Keith would most likely be training, and he honestly didn’t know Shiro well enough to know what he did in his freetime, but he knew it wouldn’t be as useless as staring out a window. 

But sometimes fate, for all its cruelty, actually strokes the wheels of change to end stagnation.

“This seems like fun.”

He whipped his head around to see Keith, whose eyes were focused on the expanse of space. Lance only shrugged and returned to watching the stars slowly pass the castle by. “Not really.”

“Then why not do something else?”

“This is the only thing that makes sense anymore.”

Lance hoped his vagueness would end the conversation rather than incite more questions. It was a safe bet considering to whom he was talking. 

Keith didn’t give a verbal response, but instead sat cross-legged next to him. 

The silence was comfortable. No expectations to keep up a front of being okay. And it was nice not being alone.

“What have you been up to lately?”

Really? Keith was making small talk? Now Lance had to put real effort to make it sound like his reply had some energy. 

“Oh, you know. This and that.” His response didn’t even have enough energy to his own ears, so he tacked on a, “the last mission was just exhausting.”

“Yeah, it was,” Keith let out in a sigh. But it clearly wasn’t the answer that he was looking for. “How are you doing?”

“I”m okay. Well, as okay we can be floating out in space being tasked to save the universe.”

Lance had an inward sigh of relief when Keith didn’t immediately respond. It’s not like Lance wanted to hide his failures and all the damage from his teammates, but he also didn’t want to cause them trouble. If they knew, they would have to clean up his mess. 

“No, you’re not. You’re lying.”

Lance tore his eyes off the stars to glance sideways at Keith, who was still staring out the window and most notably, not looking at Lance. “You’re right, but I also know no one ever wants an actual answer to that question. It’s the same as ‘Good Morning,’ or ‘Hello.’ Just small talk so you come across a normal, polite human being.”

“Do I seem like a ‘normal, polite human being’ to you?”

Lance had to acquiesce a smile. “No, not really.”

“Then tell me what’s really going on with you,” demanded Keith. As brash as it felt, Keith’s usual pushiness relaxed Lance, made the conversation feel normal. 

But Lance still had to ensure that Keith knew what he was signing up for. “Are you sure you really want to know?”

“I am sure that you really want to tell me.”

Lance would take it. He needed to vent and there is the remote possibility that Keith was actually paying attention. 

“Fine, but you literally asked for it.” Lance took a deep breath before casting a final glance at Keith. His jaw was tense, but he was still looking out the window.

Lance purged. Every mistake, every possible consequence, Lance spilled them all at Keith’s feet. He spat out every depressed, anxious, contradictory thought he had; repeated and talked himself in circles. Gross, snotty tears even made an appearance or four. On Lance’s face of course, not Keith’s. 

It was horrifying, exhausting, and relieving to finally have an audience for what he had been going through. Finally someone knew his pain and believed him, probably. He swore to Keith that it wasn’t all just for attention. It couldn’t be. There had to be a purpose for his suffering. 

Inhaling a deep breath after having talked himself out, he turned towards Keith, who was still looking out the window.

“Were you even listening to me?” Lance’s question came across as more accusatory than he intended and Lance certainly didn’t want to make Keith any more annoyed than he probably already was. “It’s okay if you weren’t. I totally get it. It’s all just excuses---”

“It was a lot,” Keith interrupted. “Sorry, I’m just processing it all and I find it easier to think and pay attention if I’m not looking at your face.”

“What’s wrong with my face?” Through his own pout, Lance could feel his smile. In this small moment, he felt a little like regular Lance again: the Lance that was actually useful and liked.

Keith finally broke his stare with the stars to look at something behind Lance. “Oh, no. Not your face in particular. Just faces in general. They make me uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?”

“Yeah. You know what they say, ‘windows to the soul’ and all that.”

“Faces make you more uncomfortable than anything I just said?”

“Well, yeah. What you said actually made sense.” Lance just stared him. Keith quickly glanced at his expression before looking away and responding, “Well, not the words you used, but now I know you aren’t okay. You should tell Shiro. He could help you.”

“I’m definitely not telling Shiro that I’ve been fucking up so much that I need help.”

“Why not? I do.”

Lance, stunned and also desperate for a change in subject, asked, “what could you possibly need help with?”

“A lot, and I’ll tell you the details some other time. But why not ask Shiro for help?”

Fine, but only because Keith was insistent that Lance be selfish and make this conversation about Lance. “Because a lot of reasons.”

“Like?”

“Ugh, fine,” Lance groaned dramatically before his face fell once again into a somber frown. “I respect the guy. I certainly don’t want him to know that I’m so much less than everyone else. Plus, I would only be throwing my problems at him to fix. No one wants that.”

“I do.”

“What?”

“Why do you think I asked if you were okay?”

Lance couldn’t look at Keith. But now, Keith was finally looking at Lance.

“I don’t know,” Lance eventually answered, but the small amount of normal that he had found earlier had vanished, leaving only the feeling of complete and utter failure in his attempts to be a normal human being in its place. 

“Neither do I. That’s why I was asking you.”

“Asshole.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this to help organize what I've been feeling and going through while I work from home while living alone. I could really use a Keith of my own right now. As well as daily communication with someone. Also, there is never enough self-imposed Langst.
> 
> Its been a while since I've been able to write a fanfic, or write in general. But I legitimately enjoyed myself. I wish I had the patience for it more often.
> 
> Let me know if you have any questions or anything else to say about this one-shot. I'm open to writing more based on this, so let me know as well if you have any ideas or would like to see more in general.
> 
> Also, I myself am autistic, so it bled into Lance a little bit in addition to Keith having Autism. No regrets.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is still stuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: I have changed the tags as there is now explicit self harm and suicide attempt(s).
> 
> Apparently this is a multi-chapter fic now. I have no set plan of where this is going and can always be accepted as complete as is. I feel like there may be additional chapters, but that can't be guaranteed.

He wasn’t going to talk to Shiro...or Coran or Allura. Lance might have told Keith everything that was going on, but there was no way he was going to admit it, rather there was no way that he could stand their judgement or the fact that he had so devastatingly let them all down when they had trusted him.

He did return to sparring with Keith though. And it helped a little. He could think a little clearer. But it still didn’t erase his mistakes that were hanging over his head, just ready to drop and kill him.

And that little bit of hope Keith had given him made the reality so much worse now that he could see it clearly. He knew that he should fess up, come clean, even though it meant him being removed from the team. There was just too much damage to clean up on his own. 

That was the worst part about it though. It was his own fault. The situation that he was in was his own making. There was nothing to blame but his own incompetence. 

Maybe it would be best to just go ahead and quit, turn in his resignation and find a nice space mall to work and live in. That way he wouldn’t have to face them when they discovered how bad he let things get.

It’s phoebs and phoebs of mistakes that need cleaning up. And the longer he waits to do anything, the worse it gets. Why can’t he do anything to help himself or help the team? He knew he could do something but instead the chooses to sit back and watch as his shit hits the fan.

He’s been through this cycle before in school, multiple times. He thought it was just school, because school sucks. The real world would be different. But here Lance is, out in the middle of space, and he’s still the exact same.

Even if he was able to clean up his own mess, it would just happen again. Was it worth it? The question had Lance answering ‘yes’ and ‘no’, and not answering at all.

In any given quintant, he could go from being marginally okay with however things turn out, to wanting to self harm, to suicidal thoughts, to disappearing off the ship, leaving everything behind.

It was all running away. Lance didn’t want to run. It wouldn’t help anything. It was cowardly. And he didn’t want to be a coward.

But oh how we wanted to run away from everything. Lance was so unfathomably full of contradictions and stuck it was making his head spin.

The current dobosh found him in his room, just out of the shower and a towel wrapped around his waist. A small scalpel that he had nicked from the infirmary was sitting next to him.

Lance knew it wasn’t a solution. However, it was something to do. It showed how sorry he was, that something out of his control was wrong with him. It couldn’t possibly be all his fault. He couldn’t take it if it was. But he knew the truth.

Keith knew the truth as well.

It was Lance’s own stupidity, inaction, and sensitivity that had caused everything. It wasn’t the depression, anxiety, or ADHD. It was just who Lance was as a person. And he was so lacking.

Even Hunk with his chronic anxiety was doing better than he was. Pidge got a hell of a lot done despite having family missing in action. Shiro was doing extraordinary considering he had to have PTSD. Quiznak, Coran and Allura had lost their entire civilization.

Yet here he was, undermining all that strength.

He finally picked up the scalpel and held it in his and. He knew where he would cut. And he also knew that it still wouldn’t solve anything.

He could cry tears of frustration, but it still wouldn’t solve anything.

Suicide wouldn’t solve anything, but at least then something would change. He would no longer be a burden to his team.

But not here. Not in his room where someone would have to clean up the mess, and slitting his wrists would certainly make quite the mess.

Airlock? No, they were currently stationed on Olkarion while the teleduv was being built.

Lance licked his lips as he thought, but it didn’t do much. His mouth was dry.

Perhaps dehydration was an option. Seemed rather poetic as well, just wasting away…

So he made a promise to himself to stop drinking liquids. It didn’t even feel like suicide either. He was still able to listen to music and play video games. Enjoy a nice hot shower.

Two quintants later and Lance was nauseous, dizzy, and tired. If he wasn’t required to be somewhere, he was sleeping.

He was just about to pull the covers back when there was a knock on the door and all the air left his lungs at once. Maybe there was a chance he would suffocate himself by accident.

“Hey, Lance. Wanted to let you know we are having a group dinner tonight.”

It was Keith. His voice hesitant and dripping with pity. Lance hated it. He didn’t deserve it. And he certainly didn’t want to talk to everyone let alone eat with them. He was dehydrating himself dammit!

But if he didn’t go, people would start looking at him too closely.

“Okay. See ya then.” A clear dismissal.

Keith’s footsteps faded as he walked away from Lance’s door, and Lance’s chest was heaving. The same thought process that led to him agreeing to attend spiraling in his head. 

A distraction. He needed a distraction. He carefully brought the scalpel to his thigh and cut a shallow line, but all it did was remind him of his bigger problems.

So instead, he jumped in the shower yet again to feel the scalding hot water fall against his skin. It slowed his thoughts down at the very least. 

Would anybody notice if he started to live in the castleship’s pool? Probably, they would still need to hunt him down to form Voltron.

Well, they wouldn’t if he quit being a paladin. But he didn’t want to quit.

Emotions continued to be all over the place for the rest of the day and Lance did his best to keep them in check. And all too soon, he found himself dressed and walking to the dining room.

Lance did his best to not think of what was waiting for him there. He wished he’d made a deeper cut. A fresh wound would keep him focused on the pain, rather than his swirling thoughts.

No one paid attention to him as he walked into the room and sat down. Lance made a point to keep his eyes low as to not catch anyone’s gaze, lest they start talking to him.

Hunk nudged him to try a dish that hadn’t yet made its way onto Lance’s plate, and he was no longer able to put off eating and drinking. The team still asked the questions of, “what have you been up to” and “are you okay.” Lance was still able to end these conversations quickly with carefully crafted responses.

Going through the motions of listening as the others talked, Lance was sick to his stomach because he could see himself clearly: all flaws. Because his friends fell for his ruse that he was okay: couldn’t they see that he was lying? 

But his parents would be proud of at least this: that he was able to hide the mess and seem okay. Appearances were half of life after all.

Lance excused himself at the earliest opportunity. Walking back to his room, frustration was the emotion of the dobosh.

“I couldn’t even keep a promise to myself longer than two quintants? What the fuck is wrong with me?”

He was so entirely lost. Literally as well as figuratively. Lance didn’t recognize his surroundings except for the fact that he was still in the castleship, but wherever he was showed clear signs of disuse. So he gave himself permission to collapse, but he couldn’t bring himself to tears.

Perhaps he would never move from this spot. Waste away in a part of the ship that was also useless. Lance liked the poetry of this even more.

All he wanted was for things to change while not changing at all. Was that too much to ask?

Considering the contradiction, Lance knew it was. But the fantasy scenario was still a welcome escape, a welcome distraction. He finally laid his head down on the dusty floor before falling asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team tries, but Lance is still stubbornly stuck.

It was supposed to be a good day. He was supposed to have a good day. Lance actually woke up with energy for once and wasn’t in a negative mood state. The chances of that happening was like winning the lottery. He felt like he might even be able to contribute. It was such a good feeling! He missed feeling like an actual person, someone in charge of their own faculties, able to do what they wanted and needed to do.

But no. Life isn’t fair. Lance had been all too aware of that fact ever since he agreed to let the blue lion kidnap him and his friends. Yet it never failed to take him by surprise at the worst of times. And it made him feel even worse for daring to even have hope.

It had been a couple of movements since Keith had found him in the hallway and sent him to bed. Every quintant afterward, his mood had been all over the place. Rather than just a consistent dark cloud, his mood decided to flip a number of emotions: despair, frustration, humiliation, anger, hope, and a number of others that didn’t have a name. Moody was an understatement and he was tired of it. He almost missed the predictability of the constant depression.

In addition to the exhaustion from his own emotional rollercoaster, Lance’s body and mind were constantly buzzing. It was weird to have such energy again, but it was useless having if he was unable to focus it. He felt like a bomb, just waiting for detonation or diffusion. Lance didn’t know which was worse. But with the direction his day was going, his money was on detonation.

Everything started when he entered the kitchen for breakfast. He had made sure to show up early so he wouldn’t encounter any of his teammates. A useless attempt apparently as Pidge seemed to be camped out snacking on something similar to cereal.

“Hey, Lance! How you been?”

Quiznak, he hated that kind of small talk. There were only so many responses vague enough to technically not be a lie, but he was starting to sound repetitive.

“Same as always. You?”

“Pretty much the same. There is always a never-ending amount of Altean tech to dig through!” The response seemed to have enough energy to be true. At least someone was enjoying this adventure.

“I’m sure you’ll be the foremost expert in almost every scientific field when the team gets back to Earth,” his tone was flat, but it was true. Lance had no doubts that Pidge had no limits to their comprehension.

Pidge gave a toothy grin before turning back to whatever was in that bowl. Lance hurried to the food preservation unit and grabbed what looked like a purple banana. Turning back around to glance at Pidge, it was clear from their face they were looking for something else to connect with Lance. 

He appreciated the thought, but the energy was better spent elsewhere rather than on shallow small talk with him. Lance left with a quick “See you.”

Lance once again found himself in Blue’s cockpit. It had turned into his favorite spot to be and think during the day. His bedroom had become too depressing, even for him which was saying something. 

He had tried the training room. But all it did was remind him that he didn’t even compare to Keith and Shiro. Confronting that failure left him too exhausted to be patient with himself. He was supposed to be self-compassionate when he was depressed, right? Being with Blue at least had the surface appearance that he was a useful part of the team. Lance knew it was a bit like pushing papers around. Technically busy and doing your job, but nothing actually getting done. 

Having ADHD, did come in handy sometimes. Never focusing on a single subject or thought-process for too long, it was a couple hours before he heard Allura’s voice over the castle’s PA system announce there would be a mission briefing in 15 minutes. So Lance proceeded to leave the hanger and head towards the bridge.

He was just out of the elevators when Hunk practically yelled from down the hall. “Lance! I’ve been looking for you!”

Lance nearly groaned. He knew what was coming next.

“We haven’t really hung out much lately. But I guess that’s my fault for being so focused on helping Pidge put together the devices they need to help track the Galra and distress beacons,” Hunk rambled off as he and Lance continued on their way to the bridge. “Anyways, how have things been going for you?”

Jackpot, there it was. And even worse this time, it was Hunk. It was harder to get away with general statements like he’d used on Pidge earlier. Hunk probably already knew something was up with Lance.

“Oh, well...supposed I’ve been better.”

“Ah, homesick?”

Yup, that’s definitely all that was wrong with him; definitely not anything more serious than the expected difficulty of homesickness. A quick hum and nod of his head in agreement was all it took to pacify Hunk’s inquiry.

“Yeah, it’s certainly not easy. But at least we have each other, right?”

Lance actually looked up from the floor, completely at a loss of words. Something warm and sad seemed to well up within his chest. But before the moment could have any real power, the two paladins had reached the bridge where everyone else had been waiting, and the briefing started.

It was routine as a routine mission in a 10,000 year-old war could be. Lance’s small part as a look-out was uneventful, which he was more than happy with. It meant that he didn’t make any mistakes. But ultimately, what did he accomplish, contribute?

Nothing. His presence on the team truly was pointless. What could Lance, a boy from Cuba who shouldn’t have been a fighter pilot in the first place, contribute to a team filled with geniuses and prodigies? Nothing, and that was on a good day. He hadn’t had a good day in a long time. Recently, he had been contributing worse than nothing.

But even worse than nothing was still nothing. And if something was nothing than it was pointless. And that gave him the ability to focus his attention and thoughts elsewhere, because he didn’t care.

Finally escaping his head, Lance exited Blue only to find himself face to face with not only Allura, but Shiro as well. Both were wearing pleasant but pitying smiles. He’d had it with shallow small talk for the day. He was too tired to put up his mask of energy and normality for yet another interaction he didn’t want to have. 

“Hello, Lance. I know it’s been awhile since we’ve last spoken on a personal basis, but we would really enjoy your company for a little bit if you’ve got the time.”

Lance froze. His gaze purposefully directed at the floor to avoid all eye contact. Quiznak. Allura’s tone was sickeningly sweet; it was not requesting shallow social time. Annoying, shallow social time he could survive, but what she was asking of him…

“Lance,” Shiro started in his concerned-dad voice. “I know you’ve been having a difficult time lately and we want to help you. The situation we’re in isn’t easy. You’ve been hiding away from the team and we are all very worried.”

Why wouldn’t his ribcage move? Was it because they finally figured out that Lance was a drain on the team? Not fit to be a paladin? Hindering Voltron’s promises and mission? Failing to achieve even the most basic human abilities?

He couldn’t do this. Lance couldn’t have this conversation; preferably ever, but not now and certainly not with a princess and a his hero.

“Sorry, Allura. But I do have a date with my pillow. That last mission...boy, was it stressful. I just need to sleep it off. Maybe later?” The excuse required a very difficult, shallow breath and his escape technically wasn’t running, but Lance knew it was suspiciously speedy. But at least he was out of there.

It was difficult not to break out into a run in an effort to get back to his room as soon as possible. But Lance was able to accomplish in projecting at least this little bit of false strength. They didn’t follow him, so maybe his secret was safe. 

Lance turned the corner and he could see his bedroom door; but Keith was closer. There was no patience left to politely and brush off another concern. There was no way Keith was getting him to open up again. Things had gotten so much worse since their heart to heart a phoebe ago; or was it two phoebes?

“Not now, Keith. You are absolutely the last thing I need right now.”

Keith’s mouth fell open with a stutter, but Lance didn’t want to hear it. On impulse, he shoulder-checked the red paladin, made his way into his bedroom, and locked the door behind him. There was no hesitation in his movements. Leaving his armor where it fell, Lance stripped and hopped in the shower.

Standing under the pressurized stream, the burning water felt clear, safe. It was his and his alone. No one would encroach on this moment. It was familiar. It was his only bit of home. Here, he could let himself enjoy being a paladin, a defender of the universe. He could pretend that he hadn’t been making a fool of himself in front of every single person he respected. That he hadn’t just trivialized Keith’s heart-warming concern when he saw a clearly upset Lance. That he didn’t have any new regrets. 

He could lie to himself for just a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm apparently not done with this. And neither can I say that your comments didn't push me to consider continuing. :D (And yes, I like my double negatives.)
> 
> I would like to say a quick thing about Lance's depression in this fic. I know its contradictory and chaotic, but that's mental illness. At least its how I experience mine. The hypocrisy and inconsistency in my own emotions and thoughts is frustrating, maddening, and devastating. So although this stream-of-consciousness-type fic may not appear to be completely linear, all the chapters are in fact in order chronologically. 
> 
> I have at least one more chapter planned out for this fic, but I will never and cannot guarantee that any chapter or fic of mine will actually be written and/or completed. I love the love I'm getting for this fic, but ultimately I write for me. I don't need to be creating any more reasons for me to feel guilty.
> 
> That said, leave a comment! Knowing just one person out there who enjoys my writing and looking forward to more chapters means a lot. I also love hearing whatever you guys think about anything I write. I admit I am a bit (a lot) of an attention-hoe.
> 
> But seriously, leave a comment. Even if it's a keyboard smash with your head.


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